The Greatest Show on Earth
by Kusco
Summary: In order to enter a locked door, the Doctor must perform the greatest show on Earth! (one shot)


"Clara! Open the door! Clara, this is sixteenth century London! It's unseemly to be locked out of one's box!"

Of all the times and places for a time traveler to be locked out of his own time machine, did it really have to be shortly after Queen Elizabeth I learned to recognize his new face? Furthermore, how did he deserve this at all? What he said was completely true! The Doctor paced in front of the doors, back and forth, keeping his eyes locked on the handle. All the while he wondered if he was fast enough, he could somehow jiggle it open, catching the lock unawares. In the less than the space of a time it took for his two hearts to beat, he latched onto the door handle and shook it as hard as he could. The door remained firmly in place.

Stubbornly, the Doctor retreated a few a step and began snapping his fingers at it. Snap! Snap! Each time quicker and harder than before! But the TARDIS, sexy as she may be, would have none of it, the door stood still. And more than that, passer-byers were beginning to notice the strange man snapping furiously in front of a blue box.

At the very least this blew a hole in the theory she kept putting forth that the TARDIS had it out for her. Not that it helped with his current predicament. It only served as the barest hints of silver lining. Frustrated, he padded his pockets, wondering if he had a spare key before giving up and grabbing the door handle again.

"Clara! Clara? Can you hear me? I really need you to let me in, I'm not exactly popular with the current government."

"I'm sorry Doctor, all I hear is the sound of crickets chirping," her voice came from the other side of the door.

"Cricket's? It's broad daylight! Let me in!"

"Mmmm no. Not yet."

The Doctor gritted his teeth, looked around then whipped his sonic from his pocket, adjusting setting after setting and aiming it at the lock. In the end all he had to show for his efforts was a sore thumb and a door that remained locked as if mocking him. The Doctor finally spiked his screwdriver to the ground then stamped his feet before marching off... he wasn't sure where to but he wasn't going to put up with this any longer. Clara's voice came from the other side of the door, laughing at him and stopping him in his tracks.

"You should really see yourself on the monitor. Quite the show you're putting on, I could pull up a chair and watch all day if I wanted."

The Doctor rushed back to the TARDIS door and gave it another jiggle. Still locked. When that didn't work he blasted out another frustrated sigh and gave the door a sharp kick. The moment he winced from the impact he heard not only Clara giggle, but a pair of children nearby.

"Oi! What are you laughing at?" he turned at the kids. "Haven't you ever been locked out of your home before! Scram!"

"Doctor, think you could just stay put for a bit? I need to nick off to the kitchen to make some popcorn."

"Oh, is that it?" The Doctor stalked back to the TARDIS door. "You want me to put on a show for you! Well sorry sweetheart, the Doctor does not put on shows!"

"Aw, why not? We could call it the Adventures of Oswin and Chinboy!"

The Doctor halted in mid-rebuttal. Chinboy. She called him Chinboy, something she hadn't called him since they met again. Oswin had. Not her. A chill ran up his spine as he considered that the last time he'd heard her say that, just like this time, she was a disembodied voice. What's more, it reminded him of what happened. Of losing her and how hard he'd looked to find her later. And here he was yelling at her over something so simple.

"Alright," he took a breath, then ran a hand through his hair, straightening it out. "So you want a show do you? I suppose you've earned one. What shall I perform for you? I know a fine Sontaran Opera, you wouldn't think they have opera but you'd be surprised how well a cloned race of potato warriors can harmonize. No? Perhaps a dance number? I'll have you know that over ten centuries of life I've picked up countless dance moves? Took lessons from Fred Astaire himself! No, that's not what you want at all. You want the ultimate show. You want the show that almost no one has ever seen before. Don't you?"

Clara didn't answer.

The Doctor adjusted his jacket and straightened his bowtie then walked away; out of the view of the monitor. When he returned he held a single flower. Once in front of the door he glanced up to where he knew the monitor received its feed. With a genuine smile he held the flower up.

"Are you ready Clara? This is the show where the Doctor apologizes and promises to never again say that going to see the Wright Brother's plane in the Smithsonian Institute is a rubbish idea."

The door clicked sharply, but before the Doctor could grab onto the handle, it creaked open and Clara came out. The Doctor took a deep breath as she stared up at him with steel in her eyes. She shut the door behind her and then crossed her arms over her chest.

"The Smithsonian is the one hundred and first place that I want to see. Always has been."

"And that's fine," the Doctor said. "I was just saying that we can actually go see everything in those museums in person! I know the Wright Brothers! Orville is a friend, Wilbur not so much but the point..." the Doctor trailed off when he noticed her tapping her foot impatiently and her raised eyebrow. "... the point is that I'm sorry and will take you where ever you'd like to go."

"Even the Smithsonian?"

"Cross my hearts."

Clara's eyes continued to bore into him until finally, the barest hint of a smile appeared at the corner of her mouth and she glanced at the flower. After a couple of moments, she took the flower from his hands, put it to her nose and gave it a quick whiff. Only then did she look back up at him with a full smile of her own.

"Alright then," she said, playfully poking him in the chest. "Don't you forget it mister!"

"Call me the king of not forgetting! The monarch of memory if you will. In fact we can go right now if you want. As long as we go in now yeah?"

"Yeah," she said, turning around and grabbing the door handle.

She jiggled the handle a couple of times then looked up at the TARDIS doors. "You have got to be kidding me! Oh come on! We were getting on so well!"

"What?" The Doctor said.

Clara turned to face him, rubbing her forehead as she did.

"We're locked out. I told you this thing hates me!"

The Doctor tried the door but it didn't budge. He shrugged and turned to Clara.

"She just needs some time to cool off. Tell you what, I know a delightful tavern just around the corner. And if I've done my calculations right, we might get there in time to buy a pint for Sir Francis Drake. We could even get recruited to help fight the Spanish Armada! Shall we?"

The Doctor extended a hand and Clara eyed him for a moment before taking it and the two rushed off together, laughing as they went.


End file.
